Aging
by IdiotsApprentice
Summary: Colonel Roy Mustang discovers a grey hair but of course he isn't going to have a mild reaction to it.
1. Chapter 1

**Aging **

_I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters, unfortunately. And I have nothing against grey hair (unless it's on a particular maths teacher) and am not trying to mock it in any way. Also, this is my first fan fiction ever so constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated! Thank you._

_Might I also add that I'm having trouble not having six-hundred and sixty-six words in total (I'm a very paranoid superstitious person) and I've just taken this story down, added this comment on to make more words and am about to put it up again._

_Anyway, onwards with the story!_

As the sun shone through the small gap in the curtains, the sleeping solider groaned in his sleep. Making itself accustom to the light that was now present, a dark eye slowly opened, its brother soon following in suit.

Colonel Roy Mustang sat up in his bed, stretching and yawning in greeting to the new day. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, reading the displayed time aloud. "Six forty-five." He read. He swung his legs off of the bed haphazardly then froze in that position as he was hit with realisation. "Six forty-five?!" he exclaimed quickly jumping to his feet and heading straight for the shower.

He was due to be at headquarters for seven o'clock, which only gave him fifteen minutes to have a shower, have breakfast, brush his teeth, comb his hair, don his uniform, and get himself looking his usual pristine manner in any other way that hasn't already been mentioned. It usually took him ten minutes to saunter there in addition, but he calculated that it would only take him five minutes if he made a mad dash.

He had no idea why he had woken up so late - he was into usual routine of waking up at no later than six am - then again, he had been up until late last night painting. Painting is one of his less common hobbies, but he enjoys it none-the-less. He'd just happened to stumble upon the buckets of paint he had from when he was 'experimenting' with human transmutation arrays and started painting random items both present and beyond his vision. His paintings looked… interesting, to say the least.

Once he'd finished in the shower, he decided to skip breakfast, hoping he could make it to lunch without his stomach making growling noises in the somewhat quiet office he shared with his subordinates. He cleaned his teeth then sat down in front of his mirror, comb in hand waiting to detangle his ebon hair, which no matter how many times he tried to comb it, still remained tousled, though he never gave in. As he proceeded to do so with some urgency, he noticed one strand of hair shimmer under the light unusually. He stopped and fished through his hair to find the strand. Once he found said strand, he started inspecting it and compared it to the other hairs on his head. He grimaced at his findings and his expression slowly transformed into a forlorn one.

"Grey." He whispered dejectedly and slouched, still grasping the offending hair. He quickly tugged at it removing it from his head wincing whilst doing so and carefully placed it on the table by him. He glowered at it for a moment before resigning. "Does this mean… I'm old?" He asked himself and sighed. Colonel Roy Mustang, twenty-nine years of age, Ladies' man, hero of the Isbalan Rebellion - though he'd strongly disagree with that - , State Alchemist…

He continued musing on all of his life's achievements, his smug smile soon appearing and continued growing in the process only to end up falling as he remembered the hair. He turned his head and saw the clock. Time had passed rapidly during all his antics, for it was already seven. Not that he cared anymore though. He was too depressed to care about anything. He threw on his uniform; not caring about how perfect he was looking, made sure he had his keys and strolled out of the building to make his way to Eastern Headquarters.

And this is the beginning of Roy Mustang's mid-life crisis.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is the second chapter. I'm writing this for my own pleasure and for your pleasure so please, if there is anything wrong with it review and give me tips on how to become a better writer. Here's the second chapter._

Roy scarcely noticed that the streets were more busy than usual. As he walked past the stalls that he normally walked past on his way to work, the keepers noticed that he was looking quite solemn. None of them dared communicate with the man though as they knew just how short his temper could be on a bad day and they preferred their property- and themselves- intact and unburned. So they just looked on at the man as he dragged his feet lackadaisically through the streets.

Riza Hawkeye was sat at her desk in the lacklustre office surrounded by four males; Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery. There were large stacks on everyone's desks, the biggest pile on Mustangs, waiting for him to arrive. The other officers had already started and their piles were slowly abating.

Riza glared at the door every few seconds, fiddling with the safety on her gun with her left and writing with her right. The other men had become scared and could only feel sympathetic for Mustang and what fate he would meet when he comes through the door. He was already twenty minutes late for work and a late Colonel and a gun-totting subordinate do not go well together, as anyone can tell.

Finally, the door opened slowly and Hawkeye stood up from her seat. The other officers faced away from the door and scrunched up their faces waiting for the deafening gun shot that was to come. Only it didn't come.

"Colonel, where have you been?" Hawkeye enquired sternly. The other officers looked at her bemused. For her, this was being patient- simply talking to him rather than shooting, that is. Mustang walked through the door entirely and closed it behind him, sighing hard and staring at the ground despondently. Everyone was shocked as he walked past them, still his focus only on the floor beneath them all. But what shocked them further was that as he reached his desk he sat down and got straight into his paperwork! This even shocked Hawkeye slightly. They all stared at him as he worked until he looked up at them. They all quickly diverted their eyes and continued their paperwork, all except Hawkeye.

"Sir, are you feeling well?" She asked walking over to his desk.

Mustang only looked at her with a dubious semi-smile. Of course he wasn't okay! He'd found a grey hair! His life was over- or at least it would be soon. It was only until he'd found that hair that he realised that he wasn't going to live forever, he would eventually loose his youthful looks (the one's he thought he had up until that moment, that is). He didn't know what he'd thought. He thought that he would look as handsome as he did forever- though, now that he thinks about it, Falman is older than him and all of his hair is grey- It was only so long until Mustang looked like that. He wasn't ready for that! Though he wasn't going to share all these feelings with Hawkeye or anyone that easily either.

"Sir…" Hawkeye called again. Apparently he'd spaced out as she was talking to him. Bad hearing- Isn't that something that happens when you get older? More proof. He sighed and shook his head at her. "I'm fine." He lied. He didn't want to drag Hawkeye down with his problems and to prove this point he got on with his work.

She was reluctant to let him wallow in his misery alone and went to talk to him again, but as she was about to speak there were two knocks at the door and it suddenly flew open.

_Yeah, I know it's a suckish place to stop the chapter and it's obvious who is going to barge through the door. Please Review!!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's chapter three! Oh, I didn't mention this last chapter but I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters. _

_So last chapter, I left you with a not-so-great cliff hanger. Pretty obvious, I know but I'm trying to keep all chapters to a specific length. Also, being the idiot I am, I planned the story in my head. Turns out, it doesn't work so well, though I'll keep writing. Basically, sorry for future disappointments; and in my opinion, there are many to come. Rating is expected to go up as well._

The door crashed into the wall and there stood Edward Elric with a scowl on his face. Al wasn't far behind.

"Let's get this over and done with. I want to get out of here as soon as possible." He stalked over to the desk, Al clanging behind him as he walked. Ed reached the desk and Mustang looked up at him with a somewhat exasperated expression. He just wasn't in the mood to be irritated by- or irritate- the blonde haired alchemist today. "Here you are Colonel Bastard" he sighed loudly and threw the papers down in front of said bastard. Mustang beckoned for Ed to come closer when he realised that everyone in the office were watching the two of them. Mustang shook his head in cancellation of the signal, stood up and started heading for the door.

"Full Metal, I would like to speak to you in private. Follow me."

"Why should I?" Came Ed's reply.

"Because if you don't, I will have you court-marshalled for ignoring a higher ranking officer's command."

"You can't do that!" Ejaculated Ed. Mustang stopped in front of the door, turned around and glared at him. "Try me." He countered and continued through the door. He could hear silence in the room before Full Metal exited through the door, calling through it telling Al he would be right back before closing it behind them. (A/N I know you can't technically 'hear silence', but I couldn't think of anything else.)

The Military corridors were particularly empty for some reason; he couldn't hear anything as the two stood there in the silence. But he wasn't complaining, this was the perfect environment for them to speak in. No one was listening in. Or were they? "Did you wa-" Edward started but stopped as soon as he saw Mustang motion for him to be quiet. He moved over to the door swiftly and pulled it open stepping back as he did so. Four men fell at his feet; Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery.

"Get off me Breda!" Havoc yelled, squirming around under his colleague.

"Sorry, Havoc." Breda replied. All four men managed to scramble to their feet eventually.

"Sorry 'bout that, Chief…" Havoc started. "We… just thought one of the hinges on the door was broken, I mean, did you hear it creak every time you opened and closed it? So we were trying to fix it and you opened up. Well we'll be getting back to work now." The others had already run back in the room by this point and Havoc started turning away but Mustang quickly held him back by his shoulder.

"I do not want you or anyone else within 5 foot of this door whilst Full Metal and I are talking. Understand?"

"Understand." Havoc whimpered and scurried back into the room.

"Good. Just as a precaution though… Hawkeye, guard this door. If these guys do anything other than their work, permission to fire to kill granted."

"Sir!" Hawkeye saluted, picked up her gun and walked over to the door, standing aside it. "You'd best get to work then." She suggested as the men worked at a miraculous pace.

_Sorry I took so long, by the way. Please keep the reviews coming because I get all excited and manic when I get them (Much to my friends annoyance, most likely). Constructive criticism is appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I felt that the last chapter was very… Anti-climactic. Sorry for that. Hopefully this one should be better. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters._

Roy and Ed retreated further up the hallway away from any doors or exits. "Ed, what do you think of me?" Roy asked. Ed was, to say the least, taken aback by this question. "I think you're an arrogant, manipulative jerk with a God complex. Why do you ask?" Ed cocked an eyebrow.

"No, I mean appearance wise. What do you think of me when you look at me?"

"Colonel… I don't know what you're trying to say… I… Look…" Ed's cheeks started to colour. "I don't like guys like that if that's what you're getting at."

Mustang finally realised what he'd said and for the first time all day, actually started laughing; partially to cover up his embarrassment but also at the situation itself. Ed only shot him a confused look. "That's not what I meant. It doesn't matter, Ed. Dismissed." He finally stopped laughing and started making his way back towards his office leaving a confused Ed in his wake.

He was about to return to the office when he made an impromptu decision and went into the Men's room instead. He leaned over a sink and studied his reflection in the mirror, feeling more jovial than he had done all day. Unknown to him, this idyllic feeling would quickly wear out. He ran his fingers through his hair and noticed at least twenty more discoloured hairs in his head. Melancholy and anger ran through his body. Why him?! He thought he had finished with the horrible fiasco from the morning; that it had been a one-off. Mustang clutched a clump of hair where there had been grey hairs but also normal ones and tore them out of his head.

A great cry erupted from the bathrooms as Roy winced in pain, dropping the hairs into the basin. He looked in the mirror again and became mortified. He had a small bald patch where he had torn his hairs out but that wasn't what had made him so horrified. In the mirror he had noticed a head pop up from one of the cubicles. Not just any head though. This head belong to Major Armstrong.

"Colonel Mustang!" The 'virile' man skipped over to Mustang and trapped him in an extremely tight embrace, lifting the man up from the floor and causing all his bones to make cracking noises before he finally lowered him back onto the ground. Mustang was now glad that they had previously discussed what to do in the event that 'someone should be hugged by Armstrong'. The practise drills proved quite useful. But I digress.

"I heard a scream, was it you?" Armstrong asked.

"Yeah." Roy replied and sighed, leaning over the sink again. Armstrong noticed the hairs in the sink then the bald patch Mustang had. "Are you alright, Sir?" Armstrong enquired.

Mustang was about to deny his inner torment but after remembering just how annoying the larger man could be, decided he didn't really want to have to deal with him longer than necessary. Besides, he could always use some good advice.

"Well…" He motioned for him to lean over like he had done for Ed. Armstrong leaned over so Mustang could whisper in his ear but the latter still had to tiptoe to be able to reach.

"Don't tell anyone but…" Mustang looked around once more just to make sure no one was around. "You see, I found some grey hair, right? So I tore them out, only, I got a few other strands as well, hence the patch of hair missing."

"Fear not, Colonel Mustang! Great hair has been passed down through the Armstrong lineage! I'll fix your hair so it looks just as great as mine!" By this point, he had managed to take off his military jacket and shirt exposing his muscles and showing them off to the man in front of him. Mustang's eyebrow started to twitch as he imagined himself with hair similar to Armstrong.

"No thank you, Major. I'll just try and cover up the patch with my hair. I'd best get going now; much paperwork to do and all. I trust you can keep my secret."

"Very well, sir."

Mustang exited the Men's room and headed for his office again trying to cover up the missing patch of hair. "Hopefully, no one will ask." He sighed.

_The whole 'Armstrong popping up over the cubical whilst Mustang is looking in a mirror' is a scene in the Manga, if anyone can tell._

_Thank you very much to:_

_**Roem**_

_**Shadena**_

_**Animeluvr8**_

_**Ragin' Fire**_

_**Amichka**_

_**Jane Austen Girl**_

_**Takahashi 'Neko Kitsune Kyona' Ryopon**_

_**M.**_

_For reviewing me. I read and treasure every single review I get and grin like an idiot every time I get another one. Thank you for those who just read this as well._


	5. Chapter 5

_I do not own Full Metal Alchemist._

Upon reaching the office, Roy found everyone hard at work and Riza still stood there watching over them. "Thank you, Hawkeye." He nodded and she took her seat again. Mustang dragged himself over to his desk, sat in his seat and got to work.

It didn't take long before he finally heard a few muffled sniggers from one of the men in the room- presumably Havoc- which was soon joined by another. A quiet whisper was heard after that but Mustang still tried to ignore what was happening and focused on his paperwork. That one whisper was soon followed by many more until it was too many just to ignore.

"Is something wrong?" He asked as he stood up with both his hands on the desk. The others just looked at him nervously. "Well?" He prompted after an ephemeral of silence. The room remained quiet until Havoc finally broke the silence. "Sir…" he started. "You seem to have…" he started waving his finger in a circle at his head where Mustang's bald patch would be on his head. He sighed heavily and sat down in his chair. "I'm aware of it, thank you, Havoc. My appearance is none of your concern." Havoc's face became serious- which it seldom ever did- as he stood up from his seat.

"Something the matter, Boss?"

"Nothing to concern you, Havoc, now sit down and continue your work."

Havoc quickly glanced at the others who only stared back at him.

"Look, we all know something is wrong and we've been tearing our hair out trying to figure out what it is." As soon as he realised what he'd said, he covered his mouth and coughed nervously. "Excuse the pun. Point is, we're worried, chief and we want to help, not as your subordinates but as your friends."

"Havoc…" Roy was taken aback by the other man's display of affection, but even so, thought there was nothing he could do, so why bother tell them? They'll only think less of him and that isn't what he wants. "Get back to work or I shall have to report you for neglecting your work." Havoc knew better than to argue with Mustang when he was this irritable and returned to his seat.

Everyone kept working in silence for the next three or four hours which lead up until lunch. The four men unanimously decided to go to lunch together leaving Mustang and Hawkeye in the office alone; the latter preparing to go to lunch herself. "Sir-?" She started but was swiftly cut off by Roy. "Just go without me." He insisted, placing his pen down to his stack of completed papers and placing his head on the pile that was left to finish. Hawkeye nodded at him in understanding that he wanted to be alone even though he wouldn't have seen. "I'll file your papers once I return, Sir." And with that, she left Mustang alone in the room.

Once Roy heard the door close, he groaned and rested his head on his arms which he had folded on top of his desk. "I'm so hungry." He whined and on cue, his stomach rumbled. He had already missed breakfast this morning hoping to catch lunch, but if he even went outside of the office someone would see him and laugh, let alone an entire canteen full of solders whose respect he had worked hard to earn. He pushed himself off of his desk and stood in front of the window as he so often did. There wasn't anyone outside the building, probably inside finishing off the last of their paperwork readying for lunch. He sighed again and returned to his desk. If he couldn't eat, he might as well finish his paperwork- perhaps he'd even finish early and go home sooner; anything to keep his mind off of his hunger.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry I haven't posted in ages. Been doing other things and I couldn't find an idea in what I could use to lead to the end (because just making him sleep for about 5 hours would be boring) so hopefully this is better. _

_I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.

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Mustang had managed to get quite a bit of paperwork complete before Hawkeye entered the room. He only looked up at her then back down at his papers and continued working. Hawkeye still wasn't used to seeing the Colonel work so hard but figured it an asset for now. Silently, she collected the stack of complete papers from his desk and left to file them.

Mustang bit his lip, insistent on continuing his paperwork despite the growling noises his stomach had started to make again. It was only getting harder to concentrate and after another ten minutes, Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery returned from their lunch, talking loudly as they usually did whenever they returned. As they approached their seats, Havoc looked over at Mustang who had his arms hanging limply at his side in his chair and his head on the desk face down. He motioned in Mustang's direction to the others in the room and they all looked round to the motionless Colonel. "Sir… Are you feeling well?" Havoc enquired. He received a quiet grunt in response; meaning 'yes' or 'no' was uncertain but at least he was still alive.

An uncomfortable silence developed as everyone waited on Mustang to elaborate on his answer. When they realised a continuation wasn't going to occur anytime soon, they returned to their seats, just before Hawkeye entered through the door. Her attention was immediately drawn to Roy which then made her look to the other officers, who shrugged back at her. She looked at her commanding officer for a few more seconds before resigning and returning to her desk.

Mustang had it planned out: he wouldn't move for the rest of the day in order to preserve enough energy to make his way home. He'd done more paperwork than he usually completed in a day today, so he wouldn't get into trouble for not doing any work. The only problem was killing time. He still had at least 4 hours left and he daren't leave the office.

Half an hour passed and Mustang had only slightly shifted in the position he had been in. Everyone including Mustang knew he couldn't stay like that for much longer for aforementioned man was already starting to get restless.

He was vaguely aware of Hawkeye leaving the room for a few minutes as the rest chatted animatedly and after a few minutes, Hawkeye re-entered. "Sir, the Fuhrer is making inspections and will be in this room in about three minutes." She informed. "May I suggest you at least look like you're doing work?" Mustang didn't care about the amount of work he feigned doing though, he was more concerned about his little hair fiasco. What would the Fuhrer think when he came in and saw him? He needed something to cover it up and fast!

He started opening and slamming shut his desk drawers looking for a hat or at least something that could cover up his head when he spotted something pink squashed at the back of the drawer. Pulling out the object, he finally realised what it was.

It was a small pink hat he had bought for Elysia's birthday to give to her, before realising that Hughes had bought the exact same one. Hughes had bought practically everything which made it hard to get another present, but I digress.

Though it was a pink little girl's hat, it was a hat nonetheless. He didn't have time to ponder on whether he should wear it or not; the Fuhrer would be here any second. It was sink or swim and Mustang decided to swim as he pulled the hat onto his head. Being a little girl's hat, it was extremely tight for him but he would manage until the Fuhrer completed his inspection of the room.

By this point, his subordinates had been eyeing him suspiciously in the corner of their eyes; not taking their eyes of their work should the Fuhrer step in. They were already cautious when he had started searching through his drawers but couldn't believe their eyes when they witnessed him donning a little girl's, pink hat.

"Sir, what are you doing?!" Hawkeye questioned. This was ridiculous! She could understand him wanting to cover himself up but going as far as wearing an article of clothing designed for a four-year-old was just ludicrous! She was about to reprimand him further except the Fuhrer stepped into the room.

Mustang quickly rose to his feet and snapped into a salute; his subordinates doing so also. Why had he put on the pink hat?! Why hadn't he just come up with an excuse?! I mean, clever as he was, he should have been able to come up with something quickly like he accidentally burned himself; he was the Flame Alchemist, after all. Even that was a better excuse than wearing a child's hat. How was he going to explain this?

"At ease." The Fuhrer commanded. All dropped their arms and stood at attention. The Fuhrer walked further into the room, his usual trademark grin on his face. But that grin slowly faded as he laid eyes on Mustang. He stopped in his tracks in front of Mustang's desk. "Colonel," He started, looking Roy up and down "Are you aware of the Militaries uniform expectations or do you have a reason for wearing what appears to be a child's hat?" Though he wouldn't let it show, Mustang was panicking. What would he say?! He refused to tell the truth but what else was there to say? "Well, I'm waiting, Mustang." The Fuhrer prompted. Mustang had to think of something and now!

"It's…"

"It's?"

"It's… The latest fashion trend! You haven't seen it yet? Everybody's doing it. Makes you look and feel younger!" Everyone except the Fuhrer looked at Mustang incredulously but the Fuhrer still kept on his serious face. But then something that no one expected happened as aforementioned serious face metamorphosed back into his grin again. "Very well, Colonel! Keep up the good work!" and with that, the Fuhrer left. Everyone was flabbergasted and silence plagued the room for a few seconds until Roy dropped into his chair with a big sigh. How he'd managed to overcome that debacle he would never know but for now he was just glad it was over. Today certainly wasn't his day.

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_This one's a bit longer than others, to make up for the long delay of not updating I suppose. Thank you for reading and please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Last chapter! Thank you to all who made it this far!_

_I do not own Full Metal Alchemist

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Mustang was just thankful that he was home after such a long day at work. Since the ordeal with the Fuhrer, there hadn't been any incident thankfully and he'd continued his day without speaking much to anyone; more than necessary at least.

He closed the door behind him and walked blindly into his bedroom through the darkness. He knew the apartment like the back of his hand so he had no trouble navigating, though he'd forgotten about the buckets of paint he'd left in the middle of the room and stumbled over them. Imprecating his luck, he picked up the paintbrush he'd left on his desk, dipped it in the paint and started painting on a random piece of paper on his desk.

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A few hours had passed and Roy's melancholy had abated. He was less stressed out and had started painting more serene paintings than angry random red splashes all over the paper. He was surprised he hadn't run out of paper but most of it was old paperwork from years ago he'd taken home to complete and 'never got round to'. No one would remember it anyway. 

There was a knock at the door to which he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; or what was left of it at least. He walked out of his bedroom and into the next room. "Who is it?" He called, hoping the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

"Hey, Chief. Could you let me in?" Mustang immediately recognised this voice. Why had Havoc come to visit him though? As he opened the door, he verbalised his curiosity.

"We're all worried about you, Boss. Hawkeye wanted to come too but I told her it's best that I go, in case it was a guy problem, y'know? So what exactly is wrong?" Mustang merely shrugged.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He turned his back to Havoc and started walking towards his bedroom; the latter following him a few seconds later. He stood at the door, looking around the room at all the papers that were scattered just about everywhere as Roy picked up some papers on the other side of the room in an attempt to quickly tidy up. He picked up a painting which was closest to his feet and inspected the contents. It appeared to be a grey cloud with a shoddily drawn smiley face and four black raindrops emerging from the bottom.

"Nice cloud, Boss." Havoc fibbed.

"It's not a cloud; it's a sheep." Mustang snapped back sounding slightly annoyed.

"Ah… So anyway, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asked simultaneously dropping the painting on the ground haphazardly. Mustang sighed irritably and ran his hand through his hair again after laying down a few recently-done paintings down on his desk.

"Red streaks? Daring, aren't we, Chief?" Mustang gave Havoc a bemused look.

"What red streaks?" Mustang queried, continuing his musings in his head. Something clicked in his head and he gasped in realisation. "Unless…!" He looked down at his fingers which were covered in red paint. From then, he hastened into the bathroom to look into the mirror and as he had suspected, he had red hairs similar to the way the grey hairs had been; too similar to be a coincidence. He'd gone through all of that just to find out it was paint? A day of hell to find out it was paint?! Mustang's face wanned at the thought of this. He would have torn the rest of his hair out had it not been for the abrupt rapping on the bathroom door.

"Hey, chief, you okay in there?" Havoc called through the door. He was about to open the door himself but Mustang had beaten him to it. Havoc swiftly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed, unceremoniously throwing himself down next to Mustang.

"Okay, now you're going to tell me what the matter has been with you all day and don't try and get out of it either."

Mustang moaned and reluctantly described his day to his Second Lieutenant which aforementioned Lieutenant seemed to find this hilarious in a way that Mustang couldn't see; laughing at sporadic intervals.

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"-And so then, I realise it wasn't grey hairs, but grey paint." Mustang finished. 

"Well, isn't that good? You don't sound too happy about it."  
"I went through so much trouble for it though." Havoc smiled sympathetically at Mustang.

"Just be glad it's over." He glanced over at the clock. "Anyway, I should really go home now. I'm glad you've gotten over your little problem."

"Thank you, Havoc."

"Don't worry about it, Boss."

Both men stood and walked to the door.

"Thank you again, Havoc. It's nice knowing I have someone I can trust." Havoc exhaled and rolled his eyes lethargically.

"I told you its okay! But can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure…"

"Stick to alchemy; art isn't your forte." Havoc beamed and left Roy alone in the apartment.

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The next day, things were back to normal; Roy had managed to comb his hair in such a way you couldn't tell there was any hair missing and he'd surely go back to his usual habit of procrastinating. 

Mustang walked through the doors of headquarters with his normal smirk on his face. He was heading for his office but got stopped by the receptionist. "Good morning, Colonel. Say, you haven't seen the Fuhrer today have you?" She asked.

"No, I've only just come in. Why do you ask?"

As if on queue, the Fuhrer appeared around the corner and started walking towards Mustang. "Good morning, Mustang!" He beamed zealously. Mustang's jaw dropped. "I took what you said into consideration yesterday. So, how do I look?" Mustang was simply speechless, for perched on top of the Fuhrer's head was a pink hat. "You… Look… Wonderful, Your Excellency!" The Fuhrer sighed.

"That's good! I knew it too for everyone was paying me so much attention today when I had it on. I'm thinking of making it part of the uniform? And don't worry; I'll credit you so everyone knows this was your brilliant idea! Goodbye, Colonel!" The Fuhrer walked off down the hallway leaving behind a baffled Colonel.

Mustang would never live this down.

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_Finally! I didn't think I'd ever finish writing this fan fiction. I hope you enjoyed it and I would like to thank everyone who read it to the end; you have some attention span to make it this far in such a lame story (especially my first), and to all who reviewed also. Even though it's finished please, still keep reviewing! Thank you!_


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